Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

She glanced down and realized she was still in her gown from that evening. What was the matter with her? She should have rung for Molly hours ago. It was too late to do so now. Poor girl.

Prisca heaved a sigh and crawled from bed. She shimmied out of her light blue silk, stumbled over to her wardrobe, and pulled her favorite nightrail from the drawer. She quickly threw it over her head and started for her bedside table to blow out the candle when a strange sound from outside caught her ear.

Heavens! What was that? She raced to the window but couldn't see a thing in the darkness. She retreated to her bedside table, blew out the candle, and returned to the window. There in the moonlight, she could make out a man stalking across the lawn toward the old path that led to Westfield Hall. But he wasn't just some man. Her heart leapt when she recognized Will. What was he doing there? Hadn't he left hours ago?

Why would he be there now? In the dead of night? And why was he leaving? Her heart urged her to call out to him, to ask him to stay. Shocking herself with this line of thought, she padded back to her bed and fell on top of the counterpane.

Will had kissed her. Two days in a row. Each time leaving her more breathless than the last. She was in just as much danger of falling for him now as she had been at fifteen. Was she willing to risk her heart again? If he broke it a second time, she knew it would never heal properly. She would never be whole again.

Which meant one thing. She had to pack her girlhood fantasies of Will away and never shake them back out.

***

Will avoided the flirty gaze of a chambermaid as he strolled toward his mother's room. Why did it seem as though every maid he came in contact with had that come-hither look? The dowager's cough had woken him more than once during the night, not that his sleep was particularly restful. But in truth, he was starting to have serious concerns about his mother's health. She hadn't been out of bed since he'd arrived from London. And, for her age, Alice Westfield was a healthy and active woman.

He slowed as he approached her chamber door, which stood half-open. A low chuckle made him tilt his head and perk his ears up so he could hear better.

"Your son is outside the door, listening to us," a male voice rumbled. Will could nearly hear the laughter in the man's tone. But he heard something else that disconcerted him even more than that. He heard the low rumble of affection, admiration, and perhaps even desire.

Even though he knew his presence had already been detected, Will still waited outside the door, unable to make his feet move any farther.

"Simon and Benjamin both have better things to do, so I assume you're referring to William."

"I'm not certain I like the idea of my daughter being

something

for your son to do."

His mother laughed. Not the laugh of a mother. Or a duchess. But the laugh of a woman besotted. When had that come about?

The major had been one of his father's dearest friends, but he'd never known the fellow to be so close with his mother. Perhaps, since Ben and Elspeth were about to make them grandparents, they shared a common bond now.

Will finally leaned around the edge of the door. The scene in the room was so cozy it nearly made him uncomfortable. The major sat in a chair at his mother's bedside with his elbows resting on his knees, his arms extended so that he clutched her hand between his own and looked lovingly upon her.

He wished his mother every happiness. She had been alone a good many years, but… Well, the idea of anyone, even a man he greatly respected, paying court to Alice Westfield made him fairly uncomfortable.

"Good morning, William," the major said, without taking his eyes off the dowager duchess.

"Uh, good morning," Will said as he stood there in the doorway, looking like he was completely daft, he was sure.

"Did you need something, Will?" his mother asked. She dragged her eyes away from the major as though it was a chore to do so.

"I just wanted to check on you. I can come back later."

"That would be wonderful, dear," she replied absently, her eyes closing slightly.

"I'm afraid I've worn her out this morning," the major said, his brow knit with concern. "Alice, I'll take my leave as well." He looked at her with a question ing glance.

"Stay," she murmured as her eyes drifted completely shut. The major settled back into the chair at her bedside and shot him an apologetic glance.

Will wasn't quite sure what to think about this latest development. Was either of his brothers aware of the situation? He couldn't imagine that Simon would approve. Of course, Ben couldn't complain as the major was his father-in-law. His mind awhirl, Will stalked from his mother's room toward the staircase, anxious to find his brothers… until the sweet scent of lilacs that was uniquely Prissy stopped him at the top of the stairs.

What was she doing here? And so early? He hadn't even breakfasted yet.

Will took the steps two at a time, noticing Billings at the bottom of the staircase. "Miss Hawthorne's here?" he asked.

The butler nodded. "She just arrived, my lord."

Will couldn't help but smile. She'd come to see him. She must feel the same insatiable need to see him as he felt for her. Morning, noon, and night. When exactly had that happened? "She's in the green parlor?" he asked, though he could tell that by her scent.

Billings frowned a bit. "Miss Hawthorne has come to see

Her Grace

, Lord William." The old butler's censure hung in the air. Single young ladies couldn't call on a bachelor, but that wasn't really the case with them. They'd always been more than that.

"After I speak with her, you may inform the duchess of her guest."

"But, my lord—"

Will halted the man's objections with a wave of his hand. "Thank you, Billings. That will be all." He turned and hurried into the parlor before the butler could regain his voice or train of thought.

Prisca's back was to him, her dainty hands clutched together, as she studied an old portrait of his mother that hung above the mantel. He cleared his throat and she spun around, an enchanting blush stained her cheeks. Will inhaled sharply at the sight of her. Prissy's beauty never failed to take his breath away.

"You're not Lily," she accused.

Simply seeing her soothed him in so many ways. "Not since the last time I checked." He shut the parlor door to keep eavesdroppers at bay, although his brothers and Major Forster could listen in if they were of a mind to do so. If they wanted to keep their tails, they'd resist the urge.

Prisca folded her arms across her chest, which only made her décolletage even more appealing. "What do you want, Will?"

"Hmm. What

do

I want?" He closed the distance between them, wishing she would smile at him like she had the night before. "When I came downstairs, I was anxious for breakfast, but then I realized you were here." He smiled his most charming smile and grazed her cheekbone with the back of his hand. "Now you're all I can think about, Prissy."

Her delicate brow rose indignantly. "Do you think you can smile at me, William, and that I'll melt at your feet?"

"You nearly melted for me last night," he quipped. But he immediately wanted to withdraw the words as he saw the storm clouds brewing in her violet eyes.

She turned her back to him and refocused on his mother's portrait.

"Priss… I'm sorry."

She glared at him over her shoulder. "I'll not be one of your conquests, William."

Is

that

what she thought? Will shook his head. "I would never—"

"So I don't think it's a very good idea for me to be alone with you."

This wasn't going at all the way he'd hoped when he'd smelled her lilac scent from the steps. She'd been so soft and pliant against him last night. What could possibly have changed? "Priss, I thought we'd moved past all this—"